The Eve
by bhindthemask
Summary: How would you spend the eve before your final battle? Praying? In the arms of your loved one? Enjolras and Eponine discover that even just one meaningless night can be salvation from the hell that awaits with the dawn. OneShot!


**Disclaimer:** I am not the owner of Les Miserables, the book or the musical, or any of its spectacular characters.

**Title:** The Eve

**Summary:** How would you spend the eve before your final battle? Praying? In the arms of your loved one? Enjolras and Eponine discover that even just one meaningless night can be salvation from the hell that awaits with the dawn. OneShot!

**Author's Note:** Hello, hello. I know this has possibly been done time and time again, but I thought what the heck. I'll give it a go. This is an EponineXEnjolras oneshot, but without all the loveydovey-Iwannathrowup crap. I have to say that I love me some Les Miserables, and I am in the middle of reading the complete unabridged novel. Not an easy read, let me tell you that. And since I am not yet at the part where these two characters come in per se, I shall be heavily influenced by the musical versions of them. Anyway, even though it is a pairing and a story that you already know, I really hope that I bring something a little different and a little new to the table with this. And, of course, I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 1**

Bodies lay strewn about the pub floor, over tables, and across chairs. Appearing so innocent, motionless and silent, they mirrored the fate that awaited each and every one of them the following day. If it weren't for their chests heaving slightly and the strong smell of liquor on their breath, they would have been believed to be dead already. The barricade had been erected. The fight for equality was already at hand.

It was already past midnight—the morning drew nearer and nearer. Still, sleep alluded two people within the small pub. A simple barmaid loitered behind the bar, wiping out dirty glasses and straightening out her stock. The other was the leader of the _les amis de l'ABC_, the group of students that occupied the safe property. He was known as Enjolras. He glanced about at the incapacitated students, at his brothers and sisters, wearing a rather defeated expression on his chiseled face. It was one that he dared not reveal in the light of day.

He clutched a glass of alcohol in one hand, leaning back casually and comfortably in his meager wooden chair. Enjolras brought the glass to his mouth and emptied it of its remaining contents. The clink of the empty cup on the wooden table was enough to draw the attention of the barmaid. She stared his way, never stopping in her duties.

"Another glass, love?" she asked softly, not wanting to disturb those sleeping around them.

He took a moment to respond, in which his piercing sapphire eyes never left the empty cup. "No, that's enough."

Enjolras stood, the strong smell of alcohol finally getting to him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, stepping over friends here and there to reach the door. The night air outside chilled his flushed cheeks and sobered him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to meditate momentarily. The evening was quiet. There was no unnecessary gunfire. All of the ammo was being saved for the next day when they would need it against the full force of their enemy.

Opening his eyes, he noticed a figure he had not seen before. It blended in well with the many shadows cast by the surrounding buildings. He pivoted swiftly, on guard for anything could occur in the dark cover of night.

"You're not one to let people sneak up on you, Enjolras." The soft voice emanated forth from the figure.

Enjolras sighed with relief and physically relaxed. "Perhaps you shouldn't go about sneaking around in the shadows, Eponine," he retorted. "You must be careful or else someone may mistake you for the enemy."

She did not appear very happy at that remark. A scowl marred her face. Even through the smudges of dirt on her porcelain face, Eponine's plain beauty was evident. Much of her dark hair was hidden beneath a lopsided cap, revealing her long neck and distinct jawbone.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, steering in another direction.

"Passed out drunk inside." He smirked. "How would you spend the eve before the day you die?"

"Not in a sorry state as that," she hissed. She seemed to be disgusted with how their choice and didn't hide it. "I wouldn't throw it away."

"So what would you prefer? Following Marius around like some pathetic street dog?" Enjolras spat. He wasn't too pleased with her attitude toward his friends when, in his opinion, she wasn't up to much better.

"Bite your tongue!" she lashed out.

Truth was, however, that she had, in a way, been doing just that. Truth was she yearned for a man who would never love her back. She had spent much of the night so far alone, wandering about Paris lost in her own thoughts and desperate feelings. She had only found her way back to the designated pub when she decided she wasn't ready to go to sleep like the rest of the city.

"No!" Enjolras held his ground. "You have your heart set on a man who is in love with somebody else. Yet, you refuse to see this. You refuse to even believe this!"

"Be quiet!"

"You think our friends in there are sad and stupid for choosing to spend their last night passed out on the floor of a pub, but you can't see that what you are doing is more pathetic and idiotic. They know the truth. They accept whatever fate is to bring them with the rising of the sun. You, however," he paused, shaking his head and glancing about. He was fuming. "You know the truth, but refuse to accept it. You refuse to accept what you cannot change, and even if by some miracle we survive this, nothing will have changed. You will still be at Marius' heels, and he will still be in love with Cosette. You are the one throwing everything away."

By now, the distance between the two had closed entirely. Eponine, outraged and quite furious herself, raised her hand readying to slap him. Just as she was bringing it down, though, Enjolras caught her wrist, stopping her from ever making contact. They stared each other down, directly in the eyes.

"How dare you," she hissed. Her demeanor began to break. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight with unshed tears. Her lip trembled despite her need to hold herself together. "Release me." She ripped her arm out of Enjolras' grasp and immediately pivoted away so he would not see the glimmer of a teardrop roll down her cheek.

She wiped it away stubbornly then rubbed her wrist where his tight grip had crushed it. She bit her lip, more out of embarrassment for what he had said to her and the obvious truth in it than out of ache in her appendage.

As Enjolras watched her, he relaxed more and more. Finally he felt rather bad for how he had just bluntly confronted her. "Eponine," he whispered.

"Leave me alone." She walked slowly down the street, still grasping her wrist close to her body.

"Eponine," Enjolras called, following her. "I didn't-"

Suddenly she whirled on him, her spirit rather renewed. "It's not," she started, but stopped, rethinking. "I didn't want this." She bowed her head, sighed. Her voice had grown softer, more understanding. "Truthfully, this is not how I imagined this night."

"I can't say I pictured it much like this, either," he confessed. "I think I prefer the idea you might have had."

"And what would that be?"

"To spend the last night in the arms of the one you love."

Eponine nodded. "Well it's a shame that it couldn't work out for either of us." She turned, signifying that she was done with the idyll chit-chat and ready to be on her way and cherish the eve. She didn't get very far, though.

Enjolras had latched onto her arm once again, stopping her in her actions. "Eponine," he spoke softly, "wait." She pivoted back around to face him, a questioning look upon her delicate features. "I don't want to be alone tonight." Her expression morphed, but she still did not say a word. He continued to stare at her, into her dark eyes. "Please."

She recognized desperation in his eyes, which she had never seen there before. Usually, there was nothing but determination, but not that evening. That evening he was just a man at the mercy of fate and trying desperately to escape from it.

* * *

><p>It was simple enough to find a private room near the barricade that was unoccupied. It wasn't much—a cot, a small bedside table with a candle atop it, and a window opening onto the dark street. Eponine stood in front of the window, peering at her own reflection the lit candle created in the glass. Her heart was beating so fast, quicker than she would have expected. She knew that it meant nothing. She knew that they had agreed on this one night. They both needed some sort of solace from the impending storm brewing for the next day.<p>

After ensuring the wooden slab of a door was properly secured, Enjolras came up slowly behind Eponine and placed his hands gently upon her shoulders. She immediately turned toward him, not wanting to look anywhere but into those pools of blue. He carefully removed her hat and tossed it to the side. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back and filled in the area around her face.

Instead of succumbing to Enjolras, Eponine broke the bond and walked past him. Doing so, she slid the oversized coat, which did little to keep the elements off of her malnourished frame, and let it fall to the dusty floor where she had stepped. Safely across the room she turned around to face him once again. The flame of the candle flickered with the draft that entered the room and danced across Enjolras. His light eyes shone through the darkness and penetrated onto Eponine in a way that made her shiver.

Seeing the physical effect of the chill run down her spine, Enjolras stepped lightly to Eponine's side. He placed his hands over her bare arms as if to shield them from the cool night air. The silence was quite unbearable for him, but he knew that she lived within the silence. She thrived without the need of another. He looked deeply at her and recognized a hint of sorrow within her gaze, behind her dark eyes. It nearly made him physically shiver with want.

Instead, his lips found hers. They had come down hard and animalistic. She could handle it, though. She was the same. She fought back against his, matching his every move. Her thin fingers entwined easily in his blonde locks. In an instant, he had his vest off then his button-down shirt was ripped from his body. Her tattered blouse was discarded, too. The ripped skirt was close in tow.

Enjolras gently, carefully laid Eponine down on the hard cot. It offered little comfort, but that was the thought least on their minds at that moment. Eponine fell back onto the thin pillow, her hair blanketed about her head. Enjolras loomed over her, staring and studying her body with his gaze. She didn't feel awkward in the slightest under his watchful eyes, but safe and secure. She tried to picture Marius in his place, but each time she did, the image got hazy. For Enjolras, she had to remain connected to the present and stop pretending. She couldn't do that to him. Not now.

He lowered himself slowly on top of her.

There was nothing between them. It was just this one night, just this night. They had both been looking for some sort of escape from the impending morning. This was it.

* * *

><p>Eponine stood in front of the window, staring out at the breaking dawn. The colors cast across the sky were beautiful, heavenly. Enjolras had already departed for the barricade, leaving her alone in the silence and thoughts she was so used to. Her ratty clothes remained carelessly strewn about the floor, wrapping her naked body in the thin sheet of the cot. The evening with Enjolras had worked to chase away all thought of what was to come and what could never be. But now, now with the sun slowly rising over the horizon, now the feelings she had suppressed during the night were coming back with a vengeance. Enjolras had been right. Nothing changed.<p>

Nearby, she could hear gunshots. The battle had begun. The students were starting to die for what they believed in. Useless bloodshed; useless death. Her eyes searched the sky above the grungy buildings. Crimson was splashed as far as she could see. It reminded her of blood. It foretold of blood.

She frantically began to dress with one thought on her mind: that she had to reach the barricades and most of all Marius. It was no longer night. The sun had chased it away. Therefore, there was no longer Enjolras. Marius was the light and Enjolras the black void of night.

They had shared a moment, that couldn't be denied. In their weak states they had found comfort in one another's arms. But it was a new day. It was _the_ day. It was the end of the end. It was hell on earth. No matter what fate Eponine would meet, she had discovered salvation. If even for just one night.


End file.
